


we are law unto ourselves

by cerie



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Snow, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:44:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will isn’t exactly sure why she has to <i>ask</i>. He’s pretty much been MacKenzie’s since the moment he first laid eyes on her all those years ago and every year that passes only cements that fact. They’re tied up together now, loop after loop, and he’s not really sure where she ends and where he begins. </p>
<p>He just wants to stay tangled up with her for eternity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are law unto ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick Valentine's Day ficlet. Enjoy!

Will had been planning to get out of the studio right at 9 on Valentine’s Day but considering this was a surprise, there was no prying MacKenzie away that early. It’s a Friday, sure, but MacKenzie seems to think that Friday nights are no more special than a Tuesday or Wednesday - and more pressure since she has to give her staff research assignments for the weekend. Will wants to get the fuck out, though, so he rushes to his office and changes into one of his own suits before coming back out to find MacKenzie. 

“Come on. I’ve got plans for you that don’t involve Russian LGBT rights or trials in Florida. It’s Valentine’s Day, the most commercial of holidays, and I want to celebrate St. Hallmark with you somewhere other than the AWM building.” MacKenzie looks a little shocked but shouts a few final instructions at Jim before letting Will usher her to the elevator. 

When they step out onto the street, Will notices that it’s snowing. He heard something about a snowstorm coming through but he had tuned it out; snow in February isn’t exactly news. He’s really hoping it’s not a snowstorm of epic proportions or anything, though, and that it’s just a dusting. The last thing he wants is his Valentine’s Day slash President’s Day weekend to turn into a snowed in nightmare.

(Or does he? Being snowed in with Mac doesn’t sound like such a bad thing.) 

“What is the big rush? I had things to tell them before we went home,” MacKenzie says, brow furrowing a little in irritation. Will hails a cab and helps her inside, unable to keep the grin off his face much longer. He’s always been kind of a little boy about things like Christmas and Valentine’s and birthdays, so long as it’s him planning a surprise for her and not the other way around. It’s much better to give and give and give than it ever is for him to receive and he’d be happy to never receive a present from anyone ever again.

“I’ve got us a suite at the Plaza,” he says, almost giddy. “And room service. I was trying to get you the fuck out of here so we could go enjoy it.” This seems to brighten MacKenzie’s spirits a little and she slides closer to him in the cab, resting her head on his shoulder. Will reaches over and plays with her hair, letting the soft strands slip through his fingers. As much as he likes the rekindling of their physical relationship, it’s these things he likes the best. He likes knowing that he can spend these little moments with her and not have to worry about being burned. 

It has taken longer than he wants to admit to trust her again. His proposal a year ago had been to demonstrate how he couldn’t live without her and that the trick all along was not minding but that had been on an emotional high and with a heart full of love. Working out their myriad problems over the subsequent months had been full of ups and downs and Will had stuck with it. He’d worried, sometimes, that MacKenzie wouldn’t be willing to stick with it anymore but she had and she’d proven herself to him even though she didn’t ever have to do that again.

But now? Now he trusts her. There’s nobody Will trusts more than MacKenzie McHale, be that in work where she so expertly pulls his and everyone else’s strings or in his personal life, where it feels like she holds his heart in her hands on a regular basis. It’s been difficult but he thinks it’s worth it to keep trying, to keep opening up and to just _trust_ her again. 

“You’re thinking entirely too much,” MacKenzie murmurs. She leans in and kisses him lightly just as the cab pulls up at the hotel and Will distracts himself with helping her out and checking in. There’s a few photographers but MacKenzie seems to be in a good mood so they pose for a few photos, smiling wide, and MacKenzie makes sure to flash her engagement ring in every shot. She’d told Will once that she does that on the off chance that Brian or Wade might be perusing the tabloids because she wants her exes burning in jealousy that she’s insanely happy with someone else. It’s just the kind of revenge he expects out of himself but not out of MacKenzie - but at least he benefits from it. 

The room is ridiculous and well worth the money he paid for it. There’s bouquets of white roses and lilies on every available surface and MacKenzie buries her nose in one of them, inhaling lightly in a gesture that’s equal parts silly and romantic. They’re her favorite and when she pulls away and looks at him again, she’s beaming and there’s a soft flush across her cheeks. Her skin is soft, dusted with the barest hint of freckles, and her brown eyes are wide and sparkling bright; she’s so beautiful. “It’s perfect, Will! You’re perfect.”

He doesn’t know about that. He’ll settle for good enough, especially with how he’d fucked it up for so long, but if MacKenzie wants to believe he’s perfect...he’s not going to argue it too hard. He slides his arms around her and pulls her close for a kiss, hands roaming along her back and hips and mouth slanting a little to capture hers. It’s the kind of kiss that makes him see stars, the kind that should have its own orchestral accompaniment. He’s pretty sure that this kiss has its own fucking movement in a Vivaldi composition.

“So. Am I a keeper? At least for this year?” MacKenzie laughs and pushes him back toward the bathroom, her hands pushing his jacket off and deftly working on his buttons. MacKenzie’s always been damned clever with her hands, almost as clever as her mouth against his neck is right now. 

“You’re my Valentine. Can I be yours?”

Will isn’t exactly sure why she has to _ask_. He’s pretty much been MacKenzie’s since the moment he first laid eyes on her all those years ago and every year that passes only cements that fact. They’re tied up together now, loop after loop, and he’s not really sure where she ends and where he begins. 

He just wants to stay tangled up with her for eternity.


End file.
